


Ties that Bind

by lady_wordsmith



Series: Fire, Faith, and Love (Matt Murdock/Reader) [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Faith as excuse for jackassery, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends as Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Family Breakdown, Issues of Faith, Jewish Reader, Matt is a Good Boyfriend, Playful teasing about faith, Reader-Insert, Relationship Discussions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your brother hasn't spoken to you since you took Matt back. Normally this would suit you just fine, but the whole judgment thing and the fact he really hasn't stopped contacting you pisses you off. Not to mention the old issues still at play make you really angry. Your minor breakdown was almost inevitable, really.<br/>Luckily Matt, Foggy, and Karen are there to pick up the pieces for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties that Bind

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't meant to be a series. It wrote itself, I swear.
> 
> Translations and useful notes at the end, but most of it is easily picked up in context or explained.

Your brother hadn’t spoken to you since he found out you and Matt were back together. After some thought, reflection, and more than a little stewing on actions of the past, you decided this was fine. What wasn’t fine was the fact he kept requesting translations by using your sister-in-law as an intermediary.

That kind of passive-aggressive bullshit pissed you off, for a variety of reasons. Matt, Foggy, and Karen had been witness to your tipping point, which was unfortunate. In the end, though, you knew the whole episode had been for the best.

Your friends had entered the apartment through the door you referred to as the side entrance. Your apartment had two entrances, the result of your grandfather buying two apartments that were side-by-side back in the day when he was a young immigrant and real estate was cheap. He never did explain why he needed two apartments, but you chalked it up to _Opa_ ’s eccentricities like the obsession with bronze and the family nicknames. When you had inherited everything, you had decided to knock down the separating wall and turn the whole thing into one very large, almost sprawling apartment. You could have done something about the extra front door, but you kept it because it reminded you about your _Oma_ ’s words about remembering the past, and called it the side entrance.

You hadn’t heard them enter. You were in the upper half of the apartment, the half that used to be your home with your _Opa_ and _Oma,_ on speaker phone with your sister-in-law. It was a Saturday, and she was requesting that you bring over a translation of some legal documents or other in the space of a few hours.

“It’s Shabbat,” you said flatly. “I don’t work on Shabbat. Besides, I have to go to temple soon.” Never mind you had attended the Friday night temple services the night before and were actually waiting on Matt, Karen, and Foggy to get to your place so the four of you could go out to breakfast. It pissed you off something fierce that your brother demanded of you, while insisting he had say in your life choices, all under the banner of family. The fact he did so on Shabbat was only the shit icing on a very shitty cake.

Okay, and maybe the fact he didn’t even pay you for your work. Call you a greedy Jew stereotype. You liked money, damn it. Especially since translating was hard work. If your brother thought otherwise, then he could plug his documents into Google Translate and do it himself. Let him wonder why his clients **still** couldn’t understand the documents after that.

“Please? He **really** needs-“

“No.” you said flatly, pacing your living room as you glared at the phone in your hand. “First, he should have thought of that before Shabbat. He knows my rules. Second, if he can’t even ask me himself-“

“You know why he’s not speaking to you.” Your sister-in-law told you, her voice telling you that she was in total agreement with the silent treatment.

That hurt, because you loved her and saw her as family even when your brother was pissing you off. But you did expect it. You suspected she had never liked Matt for her own reasons, anyway.

“Yeah, about that.” You said, and you stopped pacing as you became aware of Matt behind you and Foggy and Karen in the archway that separated your living room from your kitchen. You shot Foggy and Karen a small smile as Matt gently put his hands on your shoulders. You leaned into him and let him kiss your temple before you continued your phone conversation. “What the **hell** gives you two the right to judge my life? Do I need to start reciting _Tanakh_ passages at you again? Better yet, do I need to remind your husband of his own transgressions? Because me taking back a man I love is a lot less shitty than the things your husband’s done.”

The venom in your voice was enough for Karen to step forward, but Foggy held her back as Matt began massaging your shoulders in slow circles with his thumbs. You took in a deep breath, letting his touch center you. The fire in you dimmed but didn’t extinguish, not by a long shot.

“He explained to you about that-“

“ _Zayn vort zol zayn a brik, volt ikh moyre gehat aribertsugeyn_. His explanation was a lie in light of even **shittier** behavior when the time came. Don’t preach to **me** about family. Not after that.” You said, and the fire sparked again even as Matt wrapped his arms around your waist and gently nuzzled your neck. “And you excusing that might as well be encouragement. I kept quiet because I was too hurt then, but you know what? _Lign in drerd un bakn beygl_. Both of you.”

And you clicked the phone off and threw it at your couch on the other side of the room. You let Matt turn you around in his embrace, and buried your head in his chest as Foggy and Karen entered the room. The two of them sat on the couch, Foggy gingerly picking up your phone and placing it on the coffee table, staring at it in offense as an obvious gesture of affection and concern for you.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, and the slight rumble of the words in his chest calmed you.

“No, not really. But I will be.” You told him, looking up into his face. You loved this man, so much it hurt sometimes. The way he had come in this morning, asking no questions but being there as a calming and centering force. Your port in the storm, the way you were his on those late nights of crimefighting.

“That thing you said… What’s that mean?” Matt asked you, giving you a quick but proper kiss on the lips now.

“The first or the second?”

“Both.”

“They’re both some old Yiddish curses my _Opa_ told me once. The first is that if my brother’s words were a bridge, I wouldn’t cross them. The second one… more or less… go to Hell.”

“Awful lot of words for ‘go to Hell.’” Foggy piped up from the couch, and you shot him a playful glare. You noticed Karen doing the same and you let out a giggle in spite of yourself. You glanced up at Matt to see him smiling fondly, and you gave him a kiss on the lips.

“Well, Foggy, it literally has something to do with lying in the ground forever and making bagels you can’t eat.” At his confusion, you shrugged. “It’s a Jewish thing.”

“Classy. I’ll have to remember that.” Karen told you, and you shot her a small smile in gratitude as Matt tried to let you go only for you to pull him back in.

“I’m starving, guys.” You announced. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

“Bagels from hell?” Foggy quipped as Matt let go of you finally and the four of you got ready to leave.

“Bagels from hell sound good right now.” Matt teased, and you shook your head even as you laughed.

“ _Goyim_.” You muttered with a shake of your head and a smile.

* * *

Saturday breakfast was usually quick, but this week it was longer and more drawn out. You suspected that the three of them had some silent agreement to cheer you up after the debacle they had walked in on.

Not going to lie, it made you feel good at being given the attention instead of annoyed at being fussed over. It was weird, the way you felt when Matt and his friends- your friends now too, you amended in your head- gave you this kind of attention. On the rare occasions when your brother and sister-in-law did it, you simply felt smothered. This was new, different and good. It only reiterated to you how right you were in choosing Matt, and that your brother was wrong.

“So-“ Foggy said, and you looked up him over your coffee. “I get the feeling that was about more than work on the Sabbath.”

“Smooth, Foggy,” Karen murmured, which made you giggle-snort.

“I’m just saying. Bagels from hell sounds pretty ominous coming from a Jew. No offense.” Foggy told you, and you shook your head.

“None taken, Fog. And, uh, yeah. It was about more than the documents.” You said, getting more than a little distracted as Matt took your hand and stroked his thumb over your knuckles.

That was going to be a **thing** , damn it. You **knew** it.

“Is it about Matt?” Karen asked.

You sighed.

“Not all of it.” You looked over at Matt. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re the only the latest thing in a very long and drawn out battle.”

Matt, bless him, pretended to pout before shooting you a small smile.

“Well, I mean… Things did end badly between us. The first time. And the second.” He reminded you. You rolled your eyes at him, which you saw made Foggy smirk and Karen giggle.

“First off, the Prague thing doesn’t count for **so** many reasons. Second, that other thing is **still** none of their business. I’m a grown-ass woman and besides, they broke up and got back together so many times before getting married that my _Oma_ nearly had a stroke.” You tell the three of them. “Hell, _Opa_ and I had a bet over whether the wedding would go forward. I lost fifty bucks.”

“Is it because Matt’s…” Karen trailed off, and you decided to take the opportunity to be a little evil.

“A defense lawyer? Dashingly good looking? A **redhead**?” you were grinning from ear-to-ear, and Foggy was laughing helplessly while Matt was visibly struggling to maintain composure. Karen, for her part, managed a small smile.

“I think she means Catholic, dear.” Matt told you in a stage-whisper, and you smiled and leaned into him just slightly.

“You **are**? Well, I don’t see why **that** matters.” You said, pretending not to understand. “We’ve discussed your poor life choices tons.”

And now Foggy was spitting out his coffee laughing while Karen was attempting to hide her face with a napkin. Matt was grinning just as widely as you now, and gave you a kiss on the temple.

“I **accept** you, Matt. Even if your religion is funny and weird and rips off mine while completely **ruining** the order of the _Tanakh_ and adds in both extraneous, unnecessary material and heretical new shit.” You take a sip of coffee. “Your messiah’s a liar, by the way. And I’m **still** bitter about the way you guys place the book of Ruth between Judges and First Kings.”

“We just made things **better** , dear.” Matt says breezily. “Not our fault you’re stuck in the past.”

“We have a couple **millennia** on you young whippersnappers. I think we just know better.”

“Seriously, though-“ Foggy interrupted your playful fight, having finally regained composure. “Is it an interfaith deal?”

You snorted. “Fuck no. It’s a ‘my brother’s an asshole’ thing. Besides, he’s in **no** position to talk about faith.”

“Ooh, sounds juicy,” Foggy said. “Care to share with the class?”

You pause, taking a sip of your coffee. Matt knows something’s off almost right away and is doing the thumb over knuckles thing again. You’re quiet for so long even Foggy and Karen know something is off.

“Um… It’s awkward. And long. And uh… I just.” You try and fail to start again.

It still hurts. One of the few raw spots you have left. The chink in your armor. You tried forgiving, but it feels like burning and you can’t.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Matt murmured in your ear.

“Yeah,” Foggy said, his voice at once comforting and apologetic. “I’m sorry if I-“

“No, no.” You say, realizing for the first time tears have sprung from your eyes. You wipe them away. “Um, it’s not you. It’s him. My brother. He’s a dick.”

Karen and Foggy steer the conversation to a less loaded, happier topic, and the rest of breakfast goes easier. Matt doesn’t let go of your hand though, or stop rubbing your knuckles with his thumb until it’s almost time to go.

After, when you and Matt said goodbye to Foggy and Karen, you let Matt put his arm around your shoulders and the two of you walk in a comfortable silence back to your apartment. It’s only when the two of you are back in your apartment that Matt embraces you, hard, and you let him.

“I love you,” he tells you. “So much.”

“I love you, too, Matt.” You pause. “Thank you. For today. Being so supportive.”

Matt just shakes his head, and tells you he loves you again. You lead him to the couch, and the two of you cuddle for a while, you lying on top of Matt, your head on his chest. He’s idly stoking your hair, and it’s lulling, almost hypnotic. It’s some time before you speak.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this thing between me and my brother.” You tell him. “It’s just… stupid Jewish bullshit.”

“Your faith isn’t stupid.” Matt reminds you, and you smile because you’ve always known the faith thing is never an issue. The two of you just love to tease each other.

“It’s not about faith, not really. It’s about rituals and respect and… and being there when you’re supposed to be. I say it’s about the religion stuff but it was more than that.” You sigh. “And then for him to use my relationship with you to dictate my life and use our faith as some kind of smoke and mirrors **bullshit** … I meant what I said. Foggy was right, bagels in hell is serious business coming from a Jew.”

Matt chuckles again. After that, the two of you are quiet once more. Matt is the one to break the silence this time.

“You don’t have to tell me what he did, you know. It’s enough that he upset you. I won’t judge you for not telling me, or push you to reconcile with him when you’re clearly hurt. I love you, and I only want the best for you. But he’s hurt you, and I hate that, and that I can’t make it better.” You raise your head to look Matt in the face, and his expression is thoughtful, but you can see that tranquil fury underneath. If he had the slightest reason to, he would beat your brother bloody. You can’t tell anymore if it’s sweet or scary or both.

“You make me better by being you, Matt. In everything you say and do.” You tell him, reaching up to kiss him. “Family’s bullshit, anyway. I have what I need, and leave the rest.”

“You’re lying. About the family thing, at least.” Matt tells you.

You sigh, and lay your head back on his chest. His hands are in your hair again, and that hypnotic, lazy feeling comes back. You can barely stifle a yawn, which makes Matt chuckle.

“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” You tell him, knowing that he’ll understand. You close your eyes. “I love you, Matt. And I meant the rest of it.”

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Opa and Oma: German for grandfather and grandmother, respectively.  
> Shabbat: Jewish Sabbath, from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday  
> Tanakh: the Hebrew bible, the canonical collection of Jewish religious texts  
> Zayn vort zol zayn a brik, volt ikh moyre gehat aribertsugeyn: Yiddish; "If his word were a bridge, I'd be afraid to cross it." Basically, the Reader Character is calling her brother a liar for reasons that are unrelated to the original matter at hand (which was a call regarding the translation of legal documents on Shabbat, which would constitute melakhah [Hebrew: work, skill, or craftsmanship], which is forbidden on Shabbat).  
> Lign in drerd un bakn beygl.: Yiddish; literally, "May you lie in the ground and bake bagels." Lying in the ground (ie, death) is serious business for Jews, and thus this is a pretty serious way of cursing someone out. You're basically telling them to go to hell and make bagels they can't eat for all eternity. As someone with a Jewish background myself (raised interfaith), I can't imagine a worse fate.  
> Goyim: Hebrew; plural of goy, anyone who's a non-Jew. Jury's out over whether this is an offensive term or not, to avoid offense, many people use gentile or simply non-Jew. Here, it's obviously a playful bantering response to the whole "bagels from hell" thing.


End file.
